Showing posts with label tomato. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tomato. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Chilies, Cucumbers & Quinces

The Taylors (Biddy's folks) always have a warm and welcoming kitchen, usually with simple, high-quality food on the table. Most veg and fruit is homegrown, bread is freshly baked, and superb (but incredible value) cheese is from the market.

Last time I visited was after a night on the town with Biddy and Maija, so the wholesome food was medicinal as well as delicious. Then I had a long drive home. I arrived back feeling dehydrated and queezy, but had been sent on my way with these lovely vegetables from the Taylors' garden. An absolutely delicious cucumber, tomato, chili and mint salad refreshed and revived me.



A couple of days later, I baked apples with slivers of the Taylors' quinces, adding lemon zest, lemon juice, honey, butter and sloe gin into the mix. Deeelightful with clotted cream, and the quince makes a big difference, transforming sweet 'n sour apples, with its fragrant layers of muskiness.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Tomato Fest, France

I'll soon be off to catch the end of the French tomato season. However much you pay, wherever you shop, whatever you grow, it is literally not possible to have a true tomato experience in the UK. Toms in Britain are more acidic and the textures are all broken up into skin, seeds, liquid, and solid flesh. In France, in season, they are juicy, fruity, smooth and soft. Not pappy, mind, just with synergistic textures that are tender but satisfying.

Tomato jelly with goats' cheese, France

Anyway, there are some growing in my garden in France, so I am very excited about making the most of them while I'm there. They are the montfavet variety, and I am also looking forward to buying some luscious marmande ones from the village market - they come in all shapes, sizes and colours, and the stall owners ask what you are going to use them for, before selecting suitable specimens from the pile.

Here's what I did with homegrown French tomatoes one year, when I had a glut (see photo above). Now, though, they will be a novelty again, so will probably all end up as tomato salads, which are a completely different and a stupendously delicious dish, if made with the French tomatoes. Hmmm and atop pizzas, and maybe a few gazpachos, and in more imaginative salads. Yeah, well I might play a bit, but no jelly - I'll need all my time to eat tomatoes, and won't have any left to fiddle around with them.

Friday, October 05, 2007

Chimps & More Cake - 23rd August 2007

My third day started off with a trip through Regent - the first place where freed Caribbean slaves settled and built a village. It has not changed much since it was established, with Creole architecture and beautifully tended vegetable gardens among the lush foliage, by the river. We were on our way to the nearby Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary.



Chimps are still hunted for meat in rural parts of Sierra Leone, and their babies sold as pets to rich people in Freetown. Numbers are estimated to have fallen from 20,000 in the 1970s, to less than 3000 now. Both the hunting and the keeping as pets are illegal, but it’s not always easy to educate people about that fact.

Some pet chimps are mistreated and chained up, whereas others are treated like spoiled children. We met one grumpy, rock-throwing male, who used to have his own bedroom with a TV. Even if they start off pampered, cute baby chimps turn into unpredictable, large, very strong, wild animals, and are consequently mistreated later on. The sanctuary takes in these chimps, which are seized from dealers or their adopted families, or handed in.



The idea is that after their rehabilitation into the enclosed forest of the sanctuary, they will be re-introduced into the wild. But there isn’t the funding to research suitable areas for release. Unlike wild chimps, they can be dangerous to humans, because they aren’t scared of them, so the chimps have simply collected in the sanctuary, since it opened in 1995.

Charismatic Dr Rosa Garriga joined the sanctuary as a resident vet a couple of years ago. She has made huge progress in publicizing the plight of the chimps and the work of the sanctuary in the local community, but is frustrated because so much needs to be done in terms of funding and research, which she feels she cannot do alone – I reckon she probably could, though! She’s a tough cookie and passionate about her work.

I’m one of those people who find chimps adorable and just want to cuddle and be friends with them, so it was a real treat to go and see some. But what made the experience even more awe-inspiring was seeing them in their ethereal natural habitat – rain forest-covered mountains. The photos don’t do it justice.


www.tacugama.com




We got back to Freetown in time for lunch, but then had a lengthy search for various cafés serving local food, all of which had closed down or were being cleaned up after a party! Then we stumbled upon Ki-Ki’s, in Campbell Street, where we had barracuda in rich tomatoey, spicy sauce, with rice and Star. I was lucky to be able to chat to Ki-Ki herself, because she normally lives in London, but was back in Freetown for the elections.

In the afternoon, I tried out the Salvonne Bakery, which has a range of heavy-looking pastries, cakes and bread, including small, solid croissants and steak and kidney pie, which I hear is delicious. I bought a little savoury cake, which was light and moist. Its fragrant sponge was mildly spicy, and flavoured with vegetables.



Notorious Paddy’s

In the evening, we went to the notorious Paddy’s, which is a sports bar, restaurant, and all night club, where everyone goes to party. I was with my dad, though, so the partying was limited to tasty kebabs, chips and Star, and taking in the pleasant surroundings. Paddy’s is one huge roof with not much in the way of walls, which makes it spacious and airy, adding to the chilled-out atmosphere. There's an area of tables to eat at, a big dancefloor, a central bar and games like pool.

Fishing Villages; Friction in Freetown - 1st September 2007

Fishing Villages

It was the first day of my last weekend in Sierra Leone, and we headed off down the coast again, but this time taking the much longer route on a new road. We were aiming for Kent beach, with the idea of perhaps getting a canoe over to the Banana Islands.

We stopped off at Mama Beach, and experienced the typical African fishing village in full swing. Everyone was on the beach, hauling huge baskets of wonderful-looking sardines out of the boats, through the surf to wash them, and up onto the beach to sell. Further along the beach, a team of people were pulling in nets with a varied catch of fish and crustaceans. Mama Beach has the softest, finest sand I have ever felt between my toes.



We wanted to buy some sardines for lunch, and I was up for building a fire to cook them - we still had Mabinti’s limes in the car. But in the end we decided to keep going to Kent, and see if we could find a restaurant selling sardines and Star.

Both the restaurants at Kent were closed, due to it being low season, but a deal was made with some local lads - all fishermen – and they went off to get the necessaries to provide us with a meal. Sardines were not available. An hour (and a Star) later, we were given our plates of ultra-fresh white fish (Groupa? Forgot to ask because I was so keen to tuck in), which had been barbecued near us on the beach, and was served with tomatoey rice and a kind of freshly cooked onion and tomato chutney sauce. We drank cold Stars and sat on the rocks to eat our scrumptious lunch.



The sea was looking a bit rough for a boat trip, so we postponed the idea of the Banana Islands until the next day.



We couldn't continue round on the new road, because we got to the end of the road. Literally. So we turned back and went the long, smooth way back to Freetown.



Friction in Freetown

On the way back, we got caught up in some election aggravation in the centre of Freetown. The streets were chokka, and suddenly everyone started walking in the same direction. Stuck in the traffic, we wound up our windows, and locked the doors, while soldiers and police (men and women) started to dash up the street wielding guns and shouting. Trucks of riot police arrived. You just can’t tell what will happen in that kind of situation, and I felt nervous seeing guns waved around. It got slightly scary when we finally got out of the gridlock, because my dad got lost, ending up in a different part of town than he expected. After ducking down alleys and roads in a labyrinth of one-way streets, we finally found ourselves on the road to Lumley and safety.

Back at the hotel, we went to the poolside bar again. The laughing barman wasn’t there, but his colleague was a nice bloke anyway, and I got another offer of a Sierra Leone mix CD. We had a quiet supper at the hotel, of bonita fish, chips, salad and Star.

No 2, 2nd Time Around; The Last Supper - 2nd September 2007

No 2, 2nd Time Around

The next morning, we decided that the Banana Islands were not a good idea – we both had a nervous feeling after the trouble in Freetown, which had woken us up to danger in some sense, and the thought of a canoe trip across stormy water suddenly seemed like a very stupid idea.

So instead, we headed back down that bumpy non-road to Sussex, for coffee. We met the soppy dog again, who didn’t mind at all that I was burying her in sand – she seemed to feel quite cosy.



Then we went back to the white sand of No 2 River Beach, for a lovely, relaxing day – my last whole day. Even the sun came out for a while, before a lunch of fish kebabs with tomato and herb sauce, ketchup, sweet potato chips and Star. A new skinny dog enjoyed some of our chips, but there was no sign of the hungry chicken this time.





We went for a walk on the beach, watched some fishermen preparing their new nets, and I bought a made-to-measure skirt, which the tailor brought to me on the beach when it was finished. One fisherman told my dad he has a beautiful daughter. My dad generously offered me in marriage, saying I was very cheap, and would exchange me for the guy’s fishing boat! He was joking, but still - how embarrassing! After a swim in the warm waves, it was time to go.








When we got back to the hotel, we learned that the trouble in town the evening before had involved knives and machetes, and that some people had been injured. The police had had to use tear gas to control the situation.

Last Supper


The last supper was at The Bunker, a fantastic, wooden first floor beach bar on Lumley beach, with reggae and 80s hits playing and a sea breeze flowing through the restaurant. I had prawns in batter, with chips and salad. It was nice, but the prawns were a bit heavy on the over-cooked batter. Pa had prawns in a tasty Mediterranean sauce, and we both drank Star.

We had digestives of rum at the hotel, with some of the staff, including the laughing barman, who was uncontrollable again - this time because my dad told him I’d gone to Paddy’s, and that my dad’s colleagues go to Paddy’s to pick up white women. (Er.. what white women?! There was only me and one student who were white and female.) A waiter sold me the mix CD he’d managed to acquire, and we listened to the music (and the laughing barman) as we drank our rum.

Saying Goodbye - 3rd September 2007

My last morning! My dad went into the office, while I went to the bar/shack/drop-in centre round the corner from the hotel to say ‘bye’ to the locals. One bloke, a Rasta who offered me some of his sandwich, said “Ah Miss Gemma – How di body? I hear you leavin today?” I hadn’t recognized him, but it turned out he had introduced himself to me as a beach boy on my first walk down the beach. I instantly remembered him when he reminded me of his name; Ruby. Then he wished me “safe journeys and happy life”.

Abu and Foday had got me two more mix CDs, and we went on a mission to find a CD player, so that we could check that they worked. We ended up going back to the hotel to use the hi-fi there, and found that both the CDs worked and had loads of good tracks on them.

After saying goodbye, I sat and waited for my dad, with a tuna sandwich (could have done with more tomato or some salad, but was enjoyable nonetheless), and drank a Star. Not my last one, though, which I had at the airport!

We left the hotel, waved goodbye, and caught the hovercraft, followed by the dune-dodging bus, past palms and people, to the airport.

I struggled with leaving this country, which had made such a big impression on me. I felt like I'd been there for months rather than a couple of weeks. How would I deal with my ‘normal’ life now?...